Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Johnny Rivers

When Bob Dylan names your version of one of his songs as his favorite of the more than 25,000 covers done over the past 40-plus years, that's pretty high praise.

However, Dylan offered that assessment of Johnny Rivers' recording of "Positively 4th Street," on Secret Agent Man: The Ultimate Johnny Rivers Anthology 1964-2004, which displays his prowess interpreting such disparate sources as Chuck Berry, Motown, The Beach Boys, Pete Seeger, and Leadbelly.

To date, Rivers has reached the top 40 17 times, with nine singles hitting the Top 10. The list includes hits like "Summer Rain," "Baby I Need Your Lovin'," and the achingly beautiful "Poor Side of Town."

The artist born John Rastemella in New York on July 4, 1942, has had a remarkable career that started years before the public became aware of him in '64. Rivers had been drawn to the guitar before rock and roll became a national sensation. As a boy, he was influenced by his father and uncle performing traditional songs.

"I would just sit and stare at them," said Rivers. "And eventually, my dad bought me a $20 Stella guitar."

The first artist to make an indelible impression on Rivers was Elvis Presley, whom the 13-year old witnessed performing at the local high school in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

"My buddy and I decided we'd catch this country music show, and in the middle (comedienne) Minnie Pearl, who was the host, says, 'And here's this new sensation with his new song that's creatin' a big stir... The Hillbilly Cat, Elvis Presley.' He comes walking onstage with Scotty (Moore) and Bill (Black), and they're setting up Scotty's amplifier, while he's kind of jumping around. He was wearing a pink suit and white buck shoes, and people started laughing. He's up there twitching around, he's got pimples all over his face. His hair's all greasy, and I'm thinking, 'This is the coolest guy I've ever seen,'" Rivers recalls with a big laugh.

Two years later, at the age of 15, Rivers had already begun his recording and performing career. On a school Christmas vacation, he ventured to New York to stay with his aunt. At that time, the country's most famous disc jockey, the legendary Alan Freed, had a nightly radio show broadcast over the equally legendary station, WINS, whose studios were located in Manhattan's Columbus Circle. One evening, standing outside, shivering in the snow while waiting for Freed to make his grand entrance, the self-assured youngster approached him and said, "Mr. Freed, I have a band in Baton Rouge called the Spades, and we have a record on the radio down there.' I just handed it to him, and he couldn't believe it. It was like something out of an Alan Freed movie!"

Freed soon secured him a contract with Gone Records, and convinced the teenager to change his name to Johnny Rivers. Nothing much happened in terms of chart success, but Rivers continued performing, using his 1957 Stratocaster.

"I wasn't much of a lead guitarist then," he admits. "And the Strat wasn't really a good rhythm guitar. It was better for things like blues."

One day, Rivers was walking down Manhattan's Canal Street, when he spotted a shiny red Gibson ES-335 in a music store's window. He went in and had the store owner hook it up. "I loved its big, fat rhythm sound with the humbucking pickups."

Too short on cash to purchase it, he discovered the proprietor was willing to swap it for $50... and his Stratocaster.

While the red Gibson has been Rivers' trademark, he laments with a laugh. "Little did I know then that model Strat would become one of the most collectible guitars in the world."

Rivers spent another five years recording for various labels, cutting $25 demos for singers like Presley and Rick Nelson. However, it wasn't until late '63 that he started attracting a following, playing at an L.A. restaurant called Gazzari's. At the time, Rivers was backed only by a drummer, and he began seeking a bass player. An acquaintance told him, "We know this one guy who's a disc jockey, but he also plays a pretty good bass.' A few days later, this guy comes in, and we ran through some songs."

On the night they were supposed to debut, the bassist came in after they had already finished their first set. "I fired him on the spot. Years later, he put this group together - Sly and The Family Stone!" recalls Rivers, with a big chuckle.

The bass slot was filled by Joe Osborne. However, despite attracting big crowds that included Hollywood luminaries, Rivers was becoming disillusioned by his meager $150 a week salary. He soon switched to the more profitable Whiskey A Go Go. Producer Bones Howe recorded six shows there, and Rivers soon hit the charts with a revamped version of Chuck Berry's "Memphis."

The long run of hit singles ended after 1977's "Slow Dancin'."

"I made some really great records after that, but I didn't have the proper machine behind them," he says. "So I struggled along and put stuff out on my own label, Soul City, with independent distribution. It was really tough."

Rivers turns 65 this year, but don't expect the still-very-in-demand performer to even consider cutting down his work schedule. "I try to take care of my health," says Rivers, who doesn't look that much different than in his heyday four decades ago. "I don't do drugs. I drink very little, and I run two to three miles every day to keep my weight down. I try to lift weights three times a week, nothing radical, but just enough to stay in shape."

And to keep his guitar chops finely tuned, Rivers practices at home with an Epiphone Emperor Joe Pass model. He explains. "The neck is a lot fatter than my 335, so it gives me a little workout to keep my fingers from cramping up onstage. There's a lot of playing to do when you're doing rhythm and lead on everything."

At: https://www.vintageguitar.com/features/artists/details.asp?AID=3281

Monday, August 2, 2010

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS - 1973

Johnny Rivers performs live in Amsterdam, Netherlands in 1973 (Photo by Gijsbert Hanekroot/Redferns)


L.A. Boogie Band


Johnny Rivers had just finished performing “Secret Agent Man.”

Brazil 2008

Johnny Rivers auth to Amaury Jr - Brazil 2008

Memories of Vietnam...

“It was great shaking Glen’s hand and talking to him for a couple of minutes. ... 1966, that was a long time ago.” (Johnny Rivers)


Local veteran renews one of his few fond memories of Vietnam

It was a 110-degree day in Chu Lai, Vietnam, in the summer of 1966 when Springfield resident Glen Perales and his buddies headed over to their Marine base camp to see Johnny Rivers and Ann-Margret in a USO show.
Four months into what would be a psychologically grueling 13-month tour, it was a welcome treat despite the heat.
“Ann-Margret’s makeup was running,” remembered Perales, who was 20 years old at the time.
“Rivers and Ann-Margret put on a big show and signed autographs afterward,” Perales said. But the only thing Perales had in his pocket was a one-dollar MPC, or military pay certificate. Soldiers couldn’t use American money there, and had to rely on the government-­issued MPCs.
So Perales asked Rivers to autograph his MPC, and the singer did.
“He said, ‘Be safe. After you leave Vietnam, look me up.’ ”
Forty-four years later, Perales did. But it almost didn’t happen.
Initially, after reading a concert preview in The Register-Guard, Glen’s wife, Christine, suggested they go to the Light of Liberty concert and fireworks show at Island Park on the Fourth of July.
“I said I wasn’t interested,” Glen said. “Explosions and fireworks get to me. I have PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). I can’t be around a lot of loud noise like that.
“So I said, ‘We’re close enough, we can watch the fireworks out the back door.’ ”
Christine’s response: “It might be nice. Johnny Rivers is going to be there.”
That caught her husband totally off guard.
“Johnny Rivers?” he said. “Well, we’re totally going!”
Perales didn’t have to dig too deep to find his autographed MPC in a scrapbook.
“It took me about five minutes to find the picture album,” he said. “I knew exactly which one to look for. In that scrapbook, I have three pages of Vietnamese money and military money.”
It was a small piece of memorabilia from an otherwise horrifying chapter in his life. The USO shows were just about the only source of comfort for Perales during the war.
“My job?” he asks. “You maybe don’t want to know. I worked graves registration. I shipped dead bodies home.”
Perales has battled PTSD ever since leaving Vietnam in 1967. But after decades of not attending Independence Day fireworks celebrations, Perales and his wife decided they couldn’t miss Johnny Rivers’ concert right there in Springfield, where the pop superstar performed such classic hits as “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’,” “Slow Dancin’, ” “Memphis” and “Secret Agent Man.”
A couple of hours before the scheduled performance, Perales found the stage manager and showed him the autographed MPC.
“The stage manager took it to Mr. Rivers’ trailer. The manager came back and said it ‘freaked (Johnny Rivers) out.’ ”
Rivers had recognized his autograph immediately, and he knew where he had originally signed it.
After the show, Perales and Rivers met again, and had their picture taken together. Rivers signed the MPC a second time — 44 years later.
“He signed it right next to the original autograph,” Perales said. “The signature is a little scribbled, but sure enough, that’s his autograph.”
In a recent telephone interview from his home in Los Angeles, Rivers said Vietnam veterans often come to his shows all over the country. He said the Springfield show was indeed memorable.
“It was great shaking Glen’s hand and talking to him for a couple of minutes,” he said. “1966 — that was a long time ago.”
Rivers said he performed at “several” USO shows in Vietnam during his career.
“I know those guys had fun at the USO shows. And it was really important to them that we came over.
“For me, the highlight was just being with the guys. I ran into a lot of guys I went to school with who got drafted.”
Perales agreed that the USO shows were great morale-builders.
Regarding the Springfield concert, “I guess it came full circle, because after all the years he’s still entertaining, and there he was, a mile from my house.
“I couldn’t believe it. When I was in Chu Lai, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d see him play again.
“But I always said, someday I’d find him again.”

By the Time Jimmy Webb Got to Nashville

[...]

In addition to classics like “Wichita Lineman” and “All I Know”, Webb also revisits his most recent composition, “Where Words End”. He wrote the song especially for Johnny Rivers on his Shadows of the Moon (2009) album. “I told him the story about what I’d gone through when I lost my mother”, says Rivers, one of the earliest champions of Webb’s songwriting (see For the Love of Jimmy). “I went and sat on this mountain at a place in Big Sur in the middle of the night. I just sat there and waited for the sunrise. He took the story and wrote it in a really beautiful, poetic way. He actually came out to California and played on it. It’s one of those songs that didn’t need any kind of orchestration. I loved the simplicity.”

Jimmy Webb is as fascinating a conversationalist as he is a songwriter. His answers to questions are like colorful threads of life experiences that interlace into one tapestry. Talking about “Where Words End”, in particular, not only leads to a discussion about Johnny Rivers, but also his observations about the gift of silence, the media’s obsession with disaster, and his friendship with both Richard Harris and Harry Nilsson.

[...]

To make a long story short, I went to Johnny Rivers Music. Johnny Rivers had a big hit called “Poor Side of Town”. “By the Time I Get to Phoenix” ended up as an album cut on Changes (1966). Glen Campbell was literally driving along the street somewhere listening to the radio and heard this album cut and said, “I gotta cut this song”, and ended up cutting “By the Time I Get to Phoenix”. He had a big hit with it. Then, I started getting calls from Glen saying [imitates voice], “Can you write me a song about a town?” I’d say, “I don’t know. I’ll think about that.” I ended up writing “Wichita Lineman”, which I wrote in one afternoon and sent it over to them and really forgot all about it because it wasn’t finished. I was talking to Glen a few weeks later and I said, “I guess you guys didn’t go for ‘Wichita Lineman’”, and he said, “Oh, we cut that!” I said, “Well Glen that song wasn’t finished”, and he said, “It is now!” In other words, it was kind of a gravity that pulled me into the notion of writing “geographical songs”, as we say in the trade. It wasn’t so much what I wanted to do and if you look at the body of my work, you’d see that there’s only a small percentage of songs about places in my catalog but almost all of them are hits.